


better, with you

by magisterpavus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Kerberos Mission, same age au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 15:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: There are two top pilots at the Garrison – their simulation scores have been tied for six months and counting, and no rivalry runs hotter than theirs.That’s the story, anyway.





	better, with you

**Author's Note:**

> :) happy birthday keith part 1
> 
> sometimes u just gotta write......pain :| anyway, enjoy, i'm always soft for prekerb even when it HURTS, and when Maya was like "same age au at the garrison before prekerberos?" my brain latched onto it and made this mess ahaha

There are two top pilots at the Garrison – their simulation scores have been tied for six months and counting, and no rivalry runs hotter than theirs.

That’s the story, anyway. The rumors say they’re hated enemies, each one pushing the other further, faster, closer to the cold reaches of space they both long to reach so badly. 

But the truth is different, hidden between the lines of lingering, heated glances and sparring sessions that run too late. What so many at the Garrison interpret as a bitter rivalry is, in fact, a deep attraction built on an even deeper admiration for each other as pilots and men. 

People will always see what they want to see. That’s what Shiro says when Keith tells him the rumors, a moment before pulling him down into a searing kiss, Shiro’s back pressed to the rattling lockers. It isn’t that they’re trying to hide, not exactly. They don’t talk about that part. It’s an unspoken aspect of their relationship that what they do within the walls of the Garrison stays in the shadows, tucked away in dorm rooms and empty supply closets, and once or twice, in the showers long after everything is locked up and empty for the night. 

It’s a risk, sure, but neither of them hesitated in taking it. Some things are like that, Keith thinks – worth risking anything for in an instant, without thinking about it at all. He doesn’t have to think when he’s with Shiro, and he likes that. As much as they seem to clash in their competing sim scores and flight drills, winning has never really mattered to either of them, not in this, anyway. Of course they want to beat everyone else. But when it comes to the two of them, there isn’t a single victor in mind. Just them. Keith and Shiro. Shiro and Keith.

Keith wonders often how it might have been if they’d met sooner. They’re the same age, almost the same height, and see the world in much the same way. But they’re not the same in how they grew up, how they arrived in this place and ended up together. 

Shiro has an aging family and a degenerative disease.

Keith has a dead dad, a missing mom, and a string of foster homes he’s eager to forget.

Even in these differences they find their common ground. They talk about death a lot. With anyone else, it might be sad. But not with them. Death just is. It’s a fact of life. It’s a fact that sucks, Keith says, and Shiro agrees, but suck though it may, it’s not something you can change. So they don’t try. They just try to live, to aim, quite literally, for the stars.

It bothers Keith, though. He’d never admit it to Shiro. It’s the one secret he keeps to himself. 

He wasn’t surprised, exactly, when Shiro told him about his condition. Shiro always calls it that: a “condition.” A euphemism, of sorts. But Keith’s never been one for euphemism. So when Shiro told him, he was understanding, and certainly not upset or angry, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Shiro he had been waiting for a catch, for news like this. Fucked up though it may be, Keith thought Shiro was too good to be true, and he was right. 

It’s comforting, in a way, to at least  _ know _ that someday, Shiro will leave him. He didn’t know that his father was going to leave, and the shock made it worse, made the grief come in a sudden, chilling wave. With Shiro, the grief is constant, slow and tidal. Maybe grief isn’t the right word for it, because Keith isn’t _ sad  _ when he’s with Shiro. Resigned, maybe? 

Not accepting, though. No, the day Keith accepts Shiro’s death is the day he dies, himself. He knows that much.

Shiro certainly isn’t resigned. He takes his condition and throws it by the wayside, sometimes to the point of recklessness. Keith’s no stranger to recklessness – it’s another commonality between them. But it’s still hard to see the aftermath. To see Shiro’s exhaustion and pain.  _ If life was a little more fair,  _ Keith would say,  _ you’d never have to hurt like this again. _

_ Life’s not fair,  _ Shiro would chuckle, and tangle their fingers together.  _ But it is good. Better, with you. _

They say things like this in private, in the darkness where everything is close and quiet. When they’re in the cockpits, ships screaming through the sky, they don’t talk about death and endings. They talk about winning. They talk about space.

They talk about Kerberos.

They both want to go to space. They’ve both always wanted that. But there’s something about the Kerberos mission that sticks in Shiro’s mind, and he just won’t let it go. Not that Keith wants him to let go of it – he understands the appeal, probably better than anyone else. Still, the mission takes on a life of its own even when it’s little more than an idea with a budget and the prototype of a ship. 

Keith won’t say he doesn’t encourage the obsession, a little. He and Shiro spend night after night on the Garrison rooftop, pointing out constellations they’ve seen together a million times before, but always searching for that impossibly tiny point of light called Pluto, fainter even than the most distant stars. Once, Shiro swears he sees it. Keith lets him have it, but he knows it isn’t visible to the naked eye. Its moons certainly aren’t. 

He doesn’t know how he feels about Shiro being so far away.

Shiro doesn’t know how he feels about being so far away either. Sometimes, when he and Keith ride out into the desert on their hoverbikes, kicking up dust storms of their own making and hurling their bikes over sheer cliffs just for the hell of it, Shiro makes mental lists of everything around him that won’t be in space. 

He makes note of the little things, especially. The warmth of the red desert dirt. The way the wind feels in his hair. The pressure of Keith’s gloved hand on his waist, calloused fingertips sliding his shirt up, up, up, until he gives in and tugs it off to tug Keith into a kiss more soft than bruising. There will be no kisses in space, he thinks, and kisses Keith a little longer, until Keith nudges him away with laughter and a spark in his eyes.

He asked Keith to come on the mission, too. Keith had shot back,  _ You don’t even know if they’ll pick you yet!  _

_ Forget them,  _ Shiro retorted. _ I’m asking you. Would you go with me? _

_ Of course I would,  _ Keith said, and stopped, Shiro’s jaw cradled in his palm. _ I’d follow you to the ends of the Universe, Takashi. _

_ But…?  _ Shiro prompted, gently. He could see the hesitation in Keith’s eyes.

_ But I’m waiting for  _ my _ mission,  _ Keith replied. _Y_ _ _o_u know how you feel like Kerberos is meant for you, in your gut, you just know?  _ Shiro nodded. He knew. Of course he knew.  _ It doesn’t make me feel that way, _ Keith admitted. _ This one’s for you, Shiro. I’ll find mine, too. Someday. After you come back. _

Keith doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s more than that. Doesn’t know how to say that his gut feeling about Kerberos is bad. He doesn’t say it. He can’t bear to dampen Shiro’s infectious enthusiasm, the genuine happiness that fills his face and voice and entire self when he tells Keith that he’s been picked for the mission. 

So he just hugs Shiro as tight as he can bear, in front of the entire staring Garrison, and whispers in the crook of his neck, _ I’m so proud of you. _

Shiro kisses him. The rumors of their rivalry fade into hums of wonder, far in the distance. Holding each other then, nothing else matters. Shiro memorizes that moment as best he can. But Keith knows he will forget it, no matter how badly he longs to hold on and never, ever, let go.

There are two top pilots at the Garrison, at least until one climbs into a spaceship bound for a tiny frozen rock three billion miles from Earth, and the other one watches helplessly from the ground, hoping with every fiber of his being that for the first time in his life, his instincts are wrong. 


End file.
